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FROM    THE   LIBRARY   OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY   OF 

PRINCETON   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Section        /V<^S 


W.  A.  W.     Lyrics  by.      121110.                       Boston,  184 1  *■* 
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LYRICS. 


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BOSTON : 

CHARLES  STIMP30N,  WASHINGTON  STREET. 

JOSEPH    G.    TORBEV,    PRINTER. 

1841. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/lyriOOwhit 


©  ©  ITS  S  SI  33"  S 


The  Grave  of  Martyn, 7 

O  Blest  are  they  whose  Throbbing  Hearts, 9 

Gazna, 11 

Joys  of  Earth  are  seldom  given, 13 

Pilate's  Wife, 15 

The  Father  Lost  at  Sea, 17 

Other  Days, 19 

Ode  for  Washington's  Birthday, 23 

The  Fisherman's  Return, 25 

Poor  and  Helpless  came  we  hither,        27 

The  Heavenly  Song, 29 

Christ  at  Gennesaret 32 

For  Thee  I  '11  Pray, 34 


VJ  CONTENTS. 


Destruction  of  Pharaoh  and  his  Host, 36 

The  House  of  Prayer,       38 

The  Mourning  Emigrant, 40 

The  Last  shall  be  First, 43 

The  Child's  Departure, 45 

Look  to  Jesus, 47 

Lines  Presented  a  Clergyman,  with  a  Picture  of  Shoreham  Church,  49 

The  Christian's  Death, 51 

The  Home  of  the  Homeless, 53 

Paradise, 57 


IL  TIB  no 


THE  GRAVE  OF  MARTYN. 

He  rests  in  the  East  —  mid  the  Mussulmen's  graves, 
And  proud  Tocat's  mount  rises  high  o'er  his  head ; 
They've  hollow' d  his  bed  far  beyond  the  dark  waves, 
And  none  but  the  Persian*  has  gazed  on  the  dead. 

He  rests  in  the  East,  and  no  lov'd  one  was  nigh, 
Life's  last  hours  to  quiet  by  kindness  and  love  ; 
The  angels  alone  heard  his  last  struggling  sigh, 
Then  hasten' d  to  bear  the  freed  spirit  above. 

*  "  There  was  something,  also,  deeply  affecting  in  the  consideration, 
that  where  he  sunk  into  his  grave,  men  were  strangers  to  him  and  his 
God.  No  friendly  hand  was  stretched  out  —  no  sympathizing  voice 
heard  at  that  time,  when  the  tender  offices  of  Christian  affection  are 
so  soothing  and  delightful." — Mem,  of  Marty n. 


8  LYRICS. 

He  rests  in  the  East,  where  from  Bethlehem's  star, 
A  light  was  once  shining  resplendent  and  bright ; 
That  light  has  now  pass'd  to  the  regions  afar, 
And  left  the  lov'd  land  of  our  Saviour  in  night. 

He  rests  in  the  East,  but  forever  he  lives 

In  fondest  remembrance,  by  those  he  held  dear ; 

There  Shiras  his  name  immortality  gives, 

And  heathen  bend  o'er  his  lone  grave  with  a  tear. 


O  BLEST  ARE  THEY  WHOSE  THROBBING 

HEARTS. 


"  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  for  they  shall  be  comforted." 


O  blest  are  they  whose  throbbing  hearts 
Have  felt  the  mourner's  pain ; 

Since  God  in  mercy  will  return. 
And  give  them  joy  again. 

O  blest  are  they  who  oft  have  shed 

The  contrite  sinner's  tears ; 
For  pardon  thro'  a  Saviour's  blood 

Shall  dissipate  their  fears, 

2 


10  LYRICS. 

'Tis  not  the  scene  of  festive  mirth 
That  gives  the  soul  delight  ; 

;Tis  not  the  time  of  purest  joy, 
When  eyes  are  glancing  bright. 

O  there  is  joy  in  tearful  eyes, 
In  eyes  that  turn  to  Heaven  ; 

And  peace  is  theirs  who  love  to  pray, 
To  pray —  and  be  forgiven. 

How  blest  art  thou,  if  thou  hast  felt 
The  mourner's  secret  pain  ; 

Since  sighs,  and  penitential  tears 
May  turn  to  joys  again. 


11 


GAZNA. 


"  In  the  providence  of  God,  Gazna  or  Ghizni,  a  city  of  India,  which 
for  a  thousand  years  had  been  the  glory  of  Mahometans,  fell,  a  few 
months  since,  into  the  hands  of  the  British.  It  was  the  tower  from 
which  the  first  Mahometan  conqueror  descended  twelve  times  to 
ravage  the  plains  of  India  ;  the  citadel  from  whence  in  succeeding 
ages,  host  after  host  issued  forth,  to  pour  a  stream  of  desolation  over 
the  fertile  plains  of  Hindostam 


5  J 


Plant  the  cross  on  Gazna' s  walls, 
Where  the  gilded  crescents  shine  ; 
Enter,  Christians,  and  proclaim 
To  the  heathen  truth  divine. 

On  those  ancient  towers,  the  pride 
Of  Mahomet's  warlike  son. 
Be  a  Christian  banner  raised, 
For  a  precious  vict'ry  won. 


12  LYRICS. 

Precious,  not  for  gold  and  gems, 
To  the  mighty  victor  given ; 
But,  since  souls,  immortal  souls, 
England's  Church  may  guide  to  Heaven 

Where  the  Koran  now  is  read, 
Where  the  Mufti's  voice  is  heard> 
May  a  Christian  people  meet, — 
Meet  to  hear  Jehovah's  word* 

Ope  those  gates  that  oft  have  pour  d 
Martial  hosts  to  India's  plain  ; 
And  a  holy  band  shall  bring 
Blessings  to  the  East  again. 

Enter,  Christians,  and  proclaim 
To  the  heathen  truth  divine  : 
Plant  the  cross  on  Gazna's  walls, 
Where  the  gilded  crescents  shine. 


13 


JOYS  OF  EARTH  ARE  SELDOM  GIVEN. 


i  i 


All  that  will  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus,  shall  suffer  persecution. " 


Joys  of  earth  are  seldom  given 
To  the  contrite  Christian  here  : 

His  is  oft  a  life  of  sorrow. 

Oft  he  strives  with  doubt  and  fear. 

Jesus  left  his  seat  of  glory, 

But  he  held  no  throne  on  earth  ; 

Cross  and  thorny  crown  they  gave  him, 
In  the  country  of  his  birth. 
2* 


14  LYRICS. 

Saints  that  have  the  Saviour  follow'd, 
Oft  have  met  their  Master's  death  : 

On  the  cross  they  too  have  languished, 
There  they  drew  their  latest  breath. 

Lurid  flames  have  often  gathered 
Round  the  holy  martyr's  frame  ; 

By  the  bloody  sword  and  halberd 
They  have  died  for  Jesus'  name. 

Blest  are  they  who  thus  have  suffer  d, 
All  their  sorrows  now  are  o'er, 

With  the  King  they  lov'd  and  honor' d, 
They  shall  reign  forevermore. 

Tread  we  then  the  martyr's  footsteps, 
Till  they  guide  our  souls  above : 

Cross  and  thorny  crown  we  welcome, 
Emblems  of  a  Saviour's  love. 


15 


PILATE'S  WIFE. 


Written  after  seeing  the  beautiful  picture  "  Calvary.'* 


Lo  !  what  a  scene  on  Calvary ; 

What  multitudes  are  there, 
Mid  glist'ning  steel  of  soldiery, 

And  banners  in  the  air. 

High  on  the  mount  Messiah  stands, 
With  Roman  guard  beside  ; 

While  Caiaphas  and  Jewish  bands, 
His  agony  deride. 


16  LYRICS. 

Here  weep  the  Marys :  Cymon  there 

The  heavy  cross  bears  on  ; 
Barrabas,  too,  with  anxious  care. 

Waits  till  the  deed  be  done. 

And  Pilate's  bride,  with  beauteous  eye, 

Beholds  the  sad  array  ; 
Her  look  of  ardent  sympathy 

Befits  the  solemn  day. 

At  Pontius'  throne  her  prayers  were  vain 

The  captive  King  to  save  ; 
And  now  she  waits,  where  he  is  slain, 

With  spirit  pure  and  brave. 

O  woman,  cause  of  evil  here, 
How  great  thy  love,  thy  care ; 

Sure  thou  dost  toil  with  aim  sincere, 
That  evil  to  repair. 


17 


THE  FATHER  LOST  AT  SEA. 


?TV7 


Neath  the  dark  and  foaming  billow, 
Where  the  spreading  corals  rest ; 

Where  upon  the  sands  his  pillow, 
Softly,  gently  lies  his  breast : 

Is  our  father  there  ] 

In  the  azure  heaven  above  us, 
Where  the  stars  in  beauty  shine  : 

Where  the  angels  swell  in  chorus, 
Songs  triumphant,  songs  divine  : 

Is  our  father  there  1 


18  LYRICS  . 

'Though  'neath  the  wave  thy  father  lies, 
My  child,  his  spirit  's  in  the  skies; 
And  in  that  purer,  better  land, 
O  may  we  all,  a  happy  band, 

Meet  thy  father  there. 


19 


OTHER  DAYS. 


It  is  the  holy  Sabbath  eve. 

The  hour  of  thought  and  rest ; 
And  feelings  sweet  tho'  sorrowful, 

Are  moving  in  my  breast. 

Ah  !  how  the  heart  will  wildly  beat 
At  thought  of  days  gone  by  : 

And  for  the  scenes  it  lov?d  so  well, 
In  sadness  heave  a  sigh. 


20  LYRICS. 

The  busy  mind  in  manhood's  prime, 

Its  youth  cannot  forget : 
And  to  the  eye  of  pale  old  age, 

Its  visions  linger  yet. 

Sweet  recollection  is  our  joy. 

Where'er  we  live  or  roam  : 
Nor  clime  can  change,  nor  age  efface, 

The  thought  of  youth  and  home. 

The  aged  sire  full  oft  recalls 
His  boyish  sports  and  plays  ; 

And  dreams  his  silver  locks  have  chang'd 
To  hue  of  other  days. 

He  brings  to  mind  the  home  of  youth, 

Far  in  the  shady  glen, 
And  sees  the  old  and  spreading  tree, 

That  wav'd  before  it  then. 

He  sees  the  noble  church  that  stood 

Upon  the  village  green, 
With  gothic  windows  long  and  large, 

And  creeping  vines  between. 


LYRICS.  21 

He  counts  its  turrets  one  by  one. 

And  tells  you  of  its  spire  : 
And  tries  to  sing  some  ancient  chant, 

That  sang  that  ancient  choir. 

Of  wedding  day  and  christening  time, 

He  has  a  merry  tale  ;  — 
But  speaks  with  falt'ring  voice  of  those 

That  sleep  beneath  the  vale. 

He  thinks  of  all  a  mother's  care, 

(A  mother  gone  above  !) 
And  counts  thro'  all  his  sunny  days, 

Her  tenderness  and  love. 

And  O  if  yet  there  was  a  time 

Far  dearer  than  the  rest, 
It  was  the  holy  Sabbath  eve, 

The  dearest  to  his  breast. 

The  Sabbath  eve,  the  Sabbath  eve, 

When  free  from  ev'ry  care, 

He  knelt  him  by  his  mother's  side, 

And  learned  his  little  prayer. 
3 


22  LYRICS. 

And  now  tho'  he  is  full  in  years. 

And  she  beneath  the  sod, 
Yet  oft,  I  ween  that  little  prayer 

He  offers  up  to  God. 

Ah  !  fond  review  of  other  days, 

Sweet  source  of  joy  and  pain  ; 
We  bless  the  thought,  — but  weep  to  feel 
Those  days  come  not  again. 

Thus,  thus  thro5  life  we  swiftly  glide.  ] 

And  cast  a  look  behind ; 
But  we  must  on,  our  sails  are  set, 

And  briskly  blows  the  wind. 


23 


ODE  FOR  WASHINGTON'S  BIRTHDAY. 


A  festive  day  comes,  and  we  welcome  its  dawn, 
With  sounds  of  rejoicing  from  valley  and  plain  : 
Our  banners  are  spread  to  the  breeze  of  the  morn, 
The  cannon  is  heard  from  the  shore  and  the  main. 

Come,  patriots,  join  in  the  song  that  we  raise ; 
Come,  freemen,  and  echo  the  notes  of  applause, 
To  chieftain  and  heroes  most  worthy  of  praise, 
To  all  that  e'er  fought  in  Columbia's  cause. 


24  LYRICS. 

O  who  can  forget  that  the  bold  warrior's  toil 
Obtained  us  the  treasures  we  ardently  prize ; 
They  fought  for  our  freedom,  our  homes  and  this  soil, 
Now  fairer  and  freer  than  aught  'neath  the  skies, 

But  hark  !  from  the  groves  of  yon  Vernon  a  sound  ! 
It  bids  us  remember  its  glorious  dead : 
O  spread  then  your  banners  upon  that  green  mound, 
And  wave  the  blest  sheet  o'er  the  patriot's  head. 

Inscrib'd  in  our  hearts,  lo !  what  power  can  erase, 
The  name  of  the  hero,  to  liberty  dear  ; 
Columbia,  his  cenotaph,  none  shall  efface ; 
A  monument  prouder  than  artist  can  rear. 


25 


THE  FISHERMAN'S  RETURN. 


AwaYj  away, 

O'er  wave  and  spray, 
While  the  wind  is  cool  and  fair  : 

We  soon  shall  see 

The  green  hills  free, 
With  our  smiling  hamlets  there. 

Then  on  we  glide, 

At  eventide, 
To  the  homes  we  love  so  well ; 

Friends  wait  on  shore, 

To  greet  once  more, 
And  our  hearty  welcome  tell. 
2* 


26  LYRICS. 

The  freshening  gale. 

Speeds  on  our  sail, 
Thro'  the  white  and  sparkling  foam ; 

With  merry  song, 

We'll  ride  along, 
'Till  we  reach  our  happy  home. 

We'll  rest  to-night, 

By  hearths  as  bright, 
As  a  noble's  hall  can  show  ; 

And  hearts  as  true 

As  earth  e'er  knew, 
By  our  humble  fireside  glow. 

Away,  away, 

O'er  wave  and  spray, 
While  the  wind  is  cool  and  fair ; 

For  now  we  see, 

The  green  hills  free, 
And  our  smiling  hamlets  there. 


27 


POOR  AND  HELPLESS  CAME  WE  HITHER. 


M  We  brought  nothing  into  this  world,   and  it  is  certain   we  can 

carry  nothing  out." 


Poor  and  helpless  came  we  hither, 
Bringing  naught  for  wants  below  ; 
Pilgrim-like  we  ask  a  pittance. 
Use  the  gift,  and  then  we  go. 

Who  for  wealth  and  costly  treasure 
Would  with  anxious  spirit  crave  : 
Who  the  world  itself  would  covet, 
Since  we  leave  it  at  the  grave. 


28  LYRICS. 

Seek  we  then  a  better  portion 
Than  this  fleeting  world  can  give  ; 
Lay  in  store  immortal  treasures, 
Where  the  bless' d  forever  live. 

What  tho'  lowering  clouds  and  darkness. 
Gather  o'er  our  path  to-day. 
Brighter  scenes  will  bless  the  morrow  ; 
Onward,  Christian,  speed  thy  way. 

Haste  there  to  the  Holy  City, 
To  the  brilliant  street  of  gold  ; 
Saint  and  angel  there  await  thee, 
And  the  pearly  gates  unfold. 

In  that  bright  celestial  country, 
Christian,  thou  shalt  ever  roam  : 
At  the  grave,  our  Friend  will  cheer  thee, 
He  will  greet  thee  "  welcome  home.'' 


29 


THE  HEAVENLY  SOXG. 


"Holy,  holy,  holy  Lord  God  Almighty,  who  was,  and  is,  and  is  to 


come." 


Hark  !  what  music  fills  the  sky  ; 

Angels  strike  their  harps  on  high  ; 

Glorious  is  the  song  they  raise, 

Ceaseless  are  their  notes  of  praise. 
List  !  the  chorus  sounds  again, 
Mortals  !  join  the  noble  strain  ; 
O  holy ;  holy,  holy  Lord." 


a 


Where  the  elders  sit  around,  * 
Robed  in  white  and  golden  crown' d  ; 

*  See  Revelation,  chap.  iv. 


30  LYRICS. 

Where  the  lamps  forever  shine. 
Spirits  of  the  Power  Divine  ; 
Glorious  songs  the  angels  raise. 
Ceaseless  are  their  notes  of  praise. 
List !  the  chorus  sounds  again, 
Mortals  !  join  the  noble  strain ;  - 
{-0  holy,  holy,  holy  Lord." 

When  the  beasts  their  homage  pay  ; 
When  the  elders  night  and  day, 
Cast  their  crowns  and  worship  there, 
While  their  voices  fill  the  air ; 
Glorious  songs  the  angels  raise, 
Ceaseless  are  their  notes  of  praise. 
List !  the  chorus  sounds  again, 
Mortals  !  join  the  noble  strain ;  — 
(i  O  holy,  holy,  holy  Lord." 

Can  our  spirits  reach  the  bliss 
Of  a  better  world  like  this  T- 
Lo  !  the  gospel  gives  reply,  — 
1  Bear  the  cross  and  win  the  sky, ' 


LYRICS.  31 

Glorious  songs  the  ransomed  raise, 

Ceaseless  are  their  notes  of  praise. 
List !  the  chorus  sounds  again, 
Mortals  !  join  the  noble  strain  ;  — 
11  0  holy,  holy,  holy  Lord." 


f- 


2 


CHRIST  AT  GENNESARET. 


Not  in  a  spacious  fane  they  met, 
Adorn'd  with  massy  tower  ; 

Nor  chiming  bells  their  music  gave. 
To  tell  the  sacred  hour. 

No  fretted  ceiling  o'er  them  hung, 
With  vaulted  arches  there  ; 

In  nature's  temple  Jesus  spake  ;  — 
What  temple  e'er  so  fair  ! 


LYRICS.  33 


Beside  the  calm  and  glassy  lake, 
Attend  a  waiting  throng ; 

And  pressing  to  the  verdant  bank, 
In  crowds  they  move  along. 

While  from  the  shore  one  little  bark, 
Within  the  woody  shade, 

At  anchor  rests,  and  on  her  deck 
The  dripping  oars  are  laid. 

Here  rose  the  holy  Master's  voice, 
From  that  thrice  hallow'd  wave  ; 

He  from  the  humble  fisher's  boat, 
His  sacred  tidings  gave. 

O  give  us  Thy  humility, 
Thy  wisdom  and  Thy  zeal  ; 

That  we,  when  earthly  toils  are  o'er, 
May  have  eternal  weal. 
4 


34 


FOR  THEE  I'LL  PRAY. 


When  the  brilliant  sun's  appearing, 
Brings  to  us  the  gladsome  day ; 

When  the  morn  the  earth  is  cheering, 
Then,  for  thee,  my   friend,  I'll  pray. 

When  the  night's  far  spreading  darkness, 
The  faint  light  hath  chased  away  ; 

When  my  soul  is  fill'd  with  sadness, 
Still,  for  thee,  my  friend,  I'll  pray, 


LYRICS.  35 

At  morn,  at  night ;  in  joy,  in  woe  ; 

Thro5  all  life's  sorrowing  way ; 
Whate'er  may  be  my  lot  below, 

Yet,  for  thee,  dear  friend,  I'll  pray. 


36 


DESTRUCTION  OF  PHARAOH  AND  HIS 

HOST. 


The  monarch  had  rush'd  with  his  host  from  the  plain, 
His  chariots,  his  horses,  his  riders  were  there; 
And  swiftly  they  cours'd  on  the  path  thro'  the  main, 
While  Egypt's  fair  banner  was  wav'd  in  the  air. 

But  sudden  dismay  fills  the  numberless  throng : 
The  Highest  looks  out  from  the  cloud  and  the  fire ; — 
Then  slowly  those  chariots  of  war  move  along, 
Jehovah  has  troubled  the  foe  in  his  ire. 


LYRICS.  37 

He  spake  but  the  word  —  and  the  waters  again. 
Impetuous  roll'd  to  the  path  in  the  sea ; 
Then  where  was  the  monarch  that  rush'd  to  the  main, 
And  where  the  proud  host  that  bid  Israel  flee. 

Ah  !  swift  was  their  doom,  for  they  sank  in  the  deep, 
The  king  and  his  troop  in  their  martial  array ; 
And  naught  can  ye  know  of  the  place  where  they 

sleep, 
The  waves  tell  no  tale  of  the  deed  of  that  day. 


Hark  !  the  voice  of  Jewish  song  ! 

Timbrels  sound  along  the  shore  ! 
Gladness  fills  the  chosen  race ; 

Egypt's  reign  of  sin  is  o'er. 

c  Sing  the  Lord  a  noble  song, 

He  hath  triumphed  o'er  his  foe; 

Horse  and  rider  hath  he  thrown, 

Where  the  deep,  dark  waters  flow.' 
4  * 


3S 


THE  HOUSE  OF  PRAYER. 


'  My  house  shall  be  called  the  house  of  prayer." 


We  love  Thy  holy  "  house  of  prayer,': 
That  precious  "  gate  of  heaven  ;;' 

We  love  to  bow  before  Thee  there, 
And  ask  our  sins  forgiv'n. 

At  early  morn,  e'er  yet  the  sun 

Has  bid  the  darkness  flee ; 
Ere  toil  and  labor  is  begun, 

Then  would  we  come  to  Thee. 


LYRICS.  39 

Here  humbly  would  we  bend  in  prayer, 

Here  raise  the  cheerful  lay  ; 
And  seek  for  grace  in  peace  to  bear 

The  burthen  of  the  day. 

Again  we  meet,  with  grateful  hearts, 

Our  even-song  to  raise  ; 
To  pray  for  Light,  as  light  departs, 

As  close  our  fleeting  days. 

Lo  !  brightly  shine  the  ancient  walls ; 

The  gothic  casements  gleam  ; 
While  on  the  Priest's  white  vesture  falls 

The  sun's  last  ruddy  beam. 

Our  holy  worship  thus  we  pay, 

Before  we  take  repose ; 
Thus  may  we  seek  Thee  ev'ry  day, 

'Till  our  last  day  shall  close. 


40 


THE  MOURNING  EMIGRANT. 


I  have  heard  a  voice  from  the  fatherland, 

And  my  heart  is  sad  to-day ; 
They  have  borne  my  sire  to  his  ancient  tomb, 

But  his  child  was  far  away. 

They  silently  stood  on  the  grassy  mound, 

Where  his  aged  form  was  laid, 
And  the  prayer  was  said  'mid  the  rust'ling  grove. 

When  the  last  sad  rite  was  paid. 


0 


LYRICS.  41 

But  his  child  wept  not  with  the  mourners  there, 

Nor  join'd  the  requiem  strain  : 
For  the  solemn  note  of  the  passingbell, 

Came  not  o'er  the  rolling  main. 

I  never  may  bend  where  my  father  lies, 

Or  bear  to  his  tomb  sweet  flowers  : 
But  my  heart  shall  recall  his  tender  love, 

In  its  sad  and  lonely  hours. 

I  have  walked  by  his  side  at  vesper  hour, 

By  the  church-yard's  purling  rill ; 
When  the  chant  was  hush'd  in  the  ancient  fane, 

And  the  world  seem'd  lone  and  still. 

We  have  watclrd  the  moon  when  its  silver  light, 

Thro'  the  turrets  shone  between  : 
When  its  bright  beams  play?d  with  the  golden  spire, 

Or  drops  of  the  dewy  green. 

O  'twas  then  we  look'd  on  the  graves  around, 

And  spake  of  the  sleepers  there  ; 
And  'twas  then  we  thought  of  the  better  world, 

With  its  spirits  bright  and  fair. 


42  LYRICS- 

And  a  father's  prayer  for  his  daughter's  weal, 

Went  up  from  the  cold  green  sod  : 
For  he  knew  that  he  soon  must  rest  him  there, 

And  he  gave  his  child  to  God. 

Ah  !  that  voice  I  hear  as  it  oft  arose 

On  the  gentle  evening  air ; 
And  his  form  I  see  as  I  saw  it  then, 

With  his  flowing  silver  hair. 

They  have  sung  soft  chants  o'er  my  father's  grave, 

But  his  child  was  far  away  : 
But  I  oft  shall  think  of  his  tender  love, 

When  at  vesper  hour  we  pray. 


13 


THE  LAST  SHALL  BE  FIRST. 


The  last  shall  be  first,  and  the  first  shall  be  last, 
"When  life  with  its  pleasures  and  sorrows  is  past ; 
When  the  blast  of  the  trump  shall  waken  again, 
The  dead  of  the  earth,  and  the  dead  of  the  main. 

Then  where  shall  ye  find  the  choice  honors  of  earth, 
Its  splendor  of  wealth,  and  its  titles  of  birth? 
No  ermine-robed  prince  his  proud  sceptre  shall  bear, 
No  chaplets  of  fame  and  no  crowns  shall  be  there. 


44  LYRICS. 

The  king  shall  arise  from  the  tomb  where  he  lay. 
Once  shrouded  in  vesture  of  regal  array; 
He  comes  not  in  grandeur,  he  takes  not  a  throne, 
But  stands  with  the  humblest  —  unaided  —  alone. 

Lo  !  then  the  poor  peasant  who  went  from  his  toil, 
To  sleep  'neath  the  turf  of  his  own  native  soil, 
Shall  rise  with  the  noblest,  the  brightest,  the  best, 
"Who  laden  with  honors  were  borne  to  their  rest. 

Ah  !  many  will  pass  to  the  regions  of  night, 
"Who  moved  with  the  gayest  in  scenes  of  delight ; 
And  many  a  heart  that  here  knew  not  a  care, 
May  live  there  in  anguish  and  deepest  despair. 

O  seek  ye  not  then  the  false  honors  of  earth, 
And  love  not  its  wealth,  and  its  titles  of  birth  ; 
For  many  a  prize  to  the  poor  shall  be  given, 
The  uncrowned  of  earth  shall  be  highest  in  heaven. 


45 


THE  CHILDS  DEPARTURE. 


"  His  young  brothers  and  sisters  were  then  called  around  his  bed, 
and  in  a  familiar  family  tune  were  sung  those  beautiful  words, 

When  I  can  read  my  title  clear 

To  mansions  in  the  skies, 
I  '11  bid  farewell  to  every  fear, 

And  wipe  my  weeping  eyes. 

There  was  now  a  momentary  pause,  when  suddenly  there  burst 
from  his  cold  and  dying  lips,  exclamations  of  ecstatic  joy,  which 
thrilled  through  every  heart,  and  which  seem  to  convert  the  chamber 
of  death  into  'none  other  than  the  house  of  God  and  the  gate  of 
heaven.'  " 


The  song  had  ceased —  and  little  forms 
Bent  sadly  o'er  a  brother's  bed  ; 

And  tender  hands,  now  clasp'd  in  prayer, 
Were  gently  resting  by  his  head. 
5 


46  LYRICS. 

Well  had  they  tun'd  his  parting  hymn. 
To  notes  that  rose  with  holy  spell ; 

And  breath' d  a  solace  to  the  soul, 
Ere  yet  it  bade  the  world  farewell. 

"  What  light !   what  light !  "  the  fair  child  cries. 

ci  Who  are  these  shining  ones  I  see, 
Like  angels  passing  to  and  fro ; 

And  Jesus  seems  to  visit  me." 

Bright  visions  blest  his  spirit  pure, 
While  heav'nly  friends,  with  watchful  care, 

Were  waiting  by  his  peaceful  couch, 
Unseen  by  mourning  kindred  there. 

And  he  hath  gone  with  seraph  guard, 
To  bear  him  to  that  home  of  light, 

Whose  jasper  walls,  and  crystal  ways, 
Have  never  known  the  gloom  of  night. 

We  well  may  read  his  title  clear, 

To  fairer  mansions  in  the  sky ; 
For  him  there  waits  a  golden  harp, 

And  robe,  and  sparkling  crown  on  high. 


47 


LOOK  TO  JESUS. 


"  Looking  unto  Jesus." 


Look  to  Jesus,  when  the  world 
Is  bright  and  gay  around  thee ; 

When  the  friends,  thou  lovest  well, 
A  happy  throng,  surround  thee. 

Look  to  Jesus,  in  the  day, 

When  friends  and  fortune  fail  thee ; 
Take  Him  for  thy  faithful  guide, 

No  harm  can  then  assail  thee. 


4S  LYRICS. 

Look  to  Jesus,  in  the  hour 

When  pain  and  care  oppress  thee, 

Thou  shalt  feel  his  soothing  power, 
And  in  his  love  he'll  bless  thee. 

Look  to  Jesus,  when  the  shades 
Of  death  are  drawing  near  thee  ; 

Brightness  shall  thy  way  illume, 
His  presence  then  will  cheer  thee. 

Look  to  Jesus ;  he  hath  lain 
Low  in  the  grave  before  thee ; 

Thou  wilt  be  above  with  him, 
Ere  yet  the  sod  is  o'er  thee. 


49 


LINES  PRESENTED  TO  A  CLERGYMAN, 


WITH  A  PICTURE  OF  SHOREHAM  CHURCH,   ENG. 


A  holy  fane  of  the  olden  time, 

And  such  as  thou  lovest  well.  — 
We  almost  hear  from  that  ancient  tower, 

The  sound  of  the  vesper  bell ; 
We  think  how  a  gather d  throng  within 

Have  knelt  at  the  voice  of  prayer, 
And  anthems  richly  have  sounded  oft, 

And  roll'd  thro5  the  arches  there. 
5* 


50  LYRICS. 

O,  many  a  year  hath  passed  away, 

Since  here  the  first  chant  was  sung : 
And  many  a  time  the  solemn  bell 

Hath  toll'd  since  it  first  was  rung; 
While  they  that  came  at  its  frequent  call, 

Sleep  silently  'neath  the  sod  ; 
Still  near  to  the  church  they  priz'd  so  dear,  — 

Heaven's  Gate  !  blest  Temple  of  God  ! 

And  white-robed  priests  that  in  olden  time, 

By  altar  and  font  were  seen; 
They  too  have  gone  to  a  better  world, 

To  a  fairer  shrine,   I  ween. 
We  soon  may  go ;  —  but  this  noble  fane, 

Like  Truth  shall  for  ages  stand, 
And  other  Priests  may  here  guide  to  Heaven, 

A  happy  and  holy  band. 


51 


THE  CHRISTIANS  DEATH. 


I  stood  by  the  bed  of  the  Christian  sire, 
"When  his  cheek  was  pale  and  his  eye  was  dim : 
And  we  watch'd  lest  his  lamp  should  soon  expire  : 
And  with  sorrowful  hearts  we  gazed  on  him. 

But  his  soul  was  firm  and  his  hope  was  bright : 
He  spake  of  the  pure  and  heavenly  land, 
And  a  vision  came  to  the  old  man's  sight, 
Of  that  better  world  and  its  happy  band. 


52  LYRICS. 

He  slept  as  we  linger' d  around  his  bed, 
And  his  hands  were  clasp'd  on  his  feeble  breast ; 
We  spake  —  still  he  slept  —  the  sleep  of  the  dead  ; 
So  calmly  the  soul  had  fled  to  its  rest. 

O  why  should  we  weep  when  the  Christian  dies  : 
His  spirit  has  gone  to  a  fairer  clime : 
It  passes  hence  to  its  home  in  the  skies. 
And  knoweth  no  more  the  sorrows  of  time. 


53 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  HOMELESS. 


Lone  and  homeless,  sad  and  dreary, 
Toiling  thro'  this  heartless  world ; 
Where,  alas !  can  one,  so  weary, 

Find  a  home  ? 

Where  the  halls  are  gay  and  shining, 
Where  the  stately  banquet  waits, 
Rosy  wreaths  the  goblet's  twining, 

There  my  home  1 


54  LYRICS. 

Where  the  fairy  lights  are  sparkling, 
'Neath  the  proud  and  princely  dome ; 
Where  the  hoarded  wealth  lies  darkling ; 

There  my  home  ? 

Nay  :  for  not  in  lofty  dwelling 
Find  the  homeless  oft  their  rest : 
Hear  they  there  no  voices  telling. 

Welcome  home. 

At  the  palace  portals  knocking, 
Long  the  weary  pilgrim  waits, 
Knocking,  knocking,  sighs  while  knocking, 

Ah  !  no  home. 

Cold  the  marble  wall  he  presses : 
Colder  are  the  hearts  within. 
There  he  finds  no  fond  carresses, 

There  no  home. 


LYRICS.  55 

But  where  the  hearth  is  bright  and  warm, 
And  warmer  welcome  greets  the  ear  ; 

Where  hand  meets  hand  in  friendship  true, 
O  there  the  stranger  findeth  cheer, 

The  homeless  there  a  home. 


When  sheltered  from  the  midnight  storm, 

In  humble  dwelling  thoJ  it  be, 
His  grateful  heart  beats  high  with  joy, 

And  feels  a  new  felicity  ; 

The  homeless  hath  a  home. 


Bright  eyes  that  beam  with  constant  love. 

Outshine  the  lights  of  hall  and  bower  ; 
And  sweeter  than  the  banquet  strain, 

Is  fireside  song  at  evening  hour, 

The  melody  of  home. 


56  LYRICS. 

God  bless  the  hearts  so  true  and  warm, 
Give  long  their  hearth  its  ruddy  cheer ; 

And  when  we  cross  the  darkest  sea, 
Beyond  its  waters  may  we  hear, 

A  welcome,  welcome  home. 


57 


PARADISE. 


Land  of  glory  !  who  can  tell 

All  the  beauties  of  thy  shore  ? 

Who  hath  view'd  thy  mansions  well. 

Who  hath  roanr d  thy  mountains  o'er  ? 

Thou  art  sung  in  Poet's  lay  ; 
Thou  in  Prophet's  vision  shown, 
Brighter  in  thy  sunless  day, 
Than  the  light  the  world  hath  known. 
6 


58  LYRICS. 

Theme  of  Persian  tale  and  song. 
Thine  are  rosy  meads,  they  say ; 
And  thy  currents  glide  along, 
Sparkling  with  the  golden  ray. 

There  the  azure  Campac's  #  bloom, 
Shines  in  ev'ry  fertile  vale ; 
And  the  cassia's  sweet  perfume, 
Rises  on  the  gentle  gale. 

There  within  each  palmy  grove, 
Cool  the  gushing  fountains  flow  : 
Where  the  b  right- wing' d  minstrels  rove, 
Gaily  warbling  as  they  go. 

Thou  wert  seen  by  Prophet's  eye, 
With  thy  streams  of  crystal  light ; 
And  thy  gems'  soft  brilliancy ; 
Shone  like  clearest  stars  of  night. 

*  "  The  Brahmins  of  this  province,  insist  that  the    blue  Campac 
flowers  only  in  Paradise." — Sir  TV.  Jones. 


LYRICS.  59 


Where  the  lovely  saphire's  blue, 
Gleams  upon  the  holy  wall ; 
And  the  jasper's  dazzling  hue, 
Burns  in  splendor,  first  of  all. 

Land  of  glory  !  Home  of  love  ! 
Thou  art  not  an  idle  dream. 
Rich  must  be  the  bliss  above, 
If  so  fair  its  emblems  seem. 

We  must  stem  the  flood  of  death, 
Cross  its  angry,  bitter  sea ; 
Feel  the  tempest's  chilly  breath, 
Ere  we  rest,  sweet  clime,  in  thee. 

Onward,  tho?  the  main  be  dark; 
Onward,  tho'  its  billows  roll : 
Angel  spirits  guide  our  bark, 
Jesus  waits  for  ev'ry  soul. 


